First Impressions
by legalliz
Summary: Ever wonder why Ranger decided to take Stephanie Plum on as his own personal Eliza Doolittle? Just a fun little speculation piece. Ranger POV with dialogue taken straight from "One for the Money" and "Two for the Dough."
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: All of the characters and settings belong to Janet Evanovich. The dialogue from the meeting between Ranger and Stephanie is taken straight from_ One for the Money _(pp. 30-36)._

I hate owing people favors. Even little ones. Which is why I try to settle my debts as soon as possible. Unfortunately I didn't settle up fast enough with the receptionist at the bonds office I currently work for. She'd given me a little assistance uncovering the whereabouts of a skip thanks to some of her more interesting family connections. I thought we'd be even if I upped the flirting a little and gave her a cut of the money. Should've known she was smarter than that.

I tossed the body receipt on her desk. "Thanks for the help," I said turning to leave.

She cleared her throat slightly. "You owe me for this one, Ranger."

I turned and looked at her, both of us wearing our poker expressions. I pulled out my wallet and dropped some cash on her desk. She stared at it a moment before sliding it back toward me with a little smile. "Keep your money. I'll let you know when I'm ready to settle up."

I tried to read her expression searching for signs of what she was really after. Obviously, she wanted something other than money. Hopefully it wasn't sex. I didn't do the whole relationship scene, and the bounty hunting gig was a good fit for me right now. I didn't need things to get all screwed up because of a one night stand with the receptionist. Guess I'd have to wait this one out and see what she had in mind.

"Later Connie," I said as I slipped out the door.

I got my answer about a month later. I was in the middle of wrangling a guy to the ground when I heard my pager go off. It was the number for the bonds office. Either Vinnie wanted to talk or it was finally time to settle up with Connie.

After dropping my skip by the station, I made a call to the office.

Connie answered on the second ring. "Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. What dilemma can I help you sort out today?" She sounded a little bored.

"Yo," I said. "It's me."

I could sense a small smile on the other end. "I was wondering when you'd call back."

"Vinnie need to talk with me?"

"Nope." There was a brief moment of silence. "As I recall, you still owe me a favor." She seemed almost giddy at the prospect. Must be one hell of a favor.

I tried to throw off her excitement with being a little overly cordial. "Consider it already done."

"I was hoping you'd say that. As I'm sure you remember, Morty Byers has been out with his whole appendix problem, which has left us a little under staffed here lately. A girl I know from high school dropped by the other day looking for work. Must be a relative of Vinnie's because the fool actually gave her a skip."

"Not seeing how this involves me," I cut in. Actually, I saw _exactly_ how this was going to involve me. Connie was probably minutes away from laughing her ass off.

"She needs a bit of a crash course on how to be a big bad bounty hunter. Can't think of anyone better suited for the job."

I'd say _anybody_ would be better suited for the job. I wasn't exactly known for my overabundance of patience. Especially dealing with some silly Jersey girl who got a thrill from pretending to be a leather-clad badass. But if this was how Connie wanted to waste her favor, then who was I to stop her? This whole crash course would probably be wrapped up in an hour or two. I'd give her another 24 hours on the job before she threw in the towel and ran home crying. This was going to be a piece of cake.

"This girl have a name?" I asked feeling the corner of my mouth twitch in amusement.

"Stephanie Plum. She'll meet you at the café in half an hour."

"That's it then? We're all settled up?"

"All settled up. But Ranger," she added. "No trying to get out of this by scaring the hell out of her. We could really use the extra help around here. And I kind of like her. So don't go walkin' in there dressed like the bogeyman, got it?"

"I'll see what I can do." No bogeyman. Didn't mean I couldn't wear some of my more intimidating street clothes. Maybe a hint of chrome and terrifying weaponry. She'd probably take one look at me and make a run for the exit.

"Later Connie." I ended the call. Despite my best efforts, I stood grinning like an idiot. This was going to be fun.

A half hour wasn't very long to get ready. Especially since I kinda wanted to know a little more about this chick. Stephanie Plum, huh? I called one of my guys to see what he could pull up while I changed clothes. He called back as I was heading out the door.

Mostly Stephanie Plum was a nobody. Thirty years old, graduated college, got married, got divorced, no kids. Grew up in Trenton. Lived by herself. Last job was as a lingerie buyer in Newark. Whatever the hell that was. Company was bought out due to some shady business dealings, and apparently she was kicked to the curb in the turnover.

She had a lot of family in the area. A few interesting names, but no one really to get excited about. Apparently she was some sort of cousin to Vinnie. What the hell could she be thinking with the whole bounty hunter thing? She must really be desperate.

I got to the café ten minutes early and chose a booth that gave me a decent view of the whole place, my focus mainly on the entrance. On the drive over I'd kind of made a deal with myself. From the looks of it, Stephanie Plum had absolutely no business being in the bounty hunting business. I'd created a mental numeric scale of sorts. If she managed to get five points or higher, I'd take her under my wing for a while. See if she could make it past the first take-down. Less than that, and I'd open her eyes to some of the real dangers of skip hunting. All the bloody, horrifying, and gruesome details.

She showed up five minutes late, but considering I was still riding the tail end of a good mood, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. After a few seconds glancing around the place, her eyes settled on me sitting in the booth. I gave her a subtle head nod and motioned her to come join me. Even from a distance I noticed her cheeks were flushed and her skin was glistening with perspiration. My guess is the rotted out car she pulled up in didn't have a fully functioning air conditioning system.

She flopped herself down in the seat across from me, and I took a moment to look her over. She had a cute face, unruly curls for hair, and a body that probably would look better in a different outfit. Her form was feminine but definitely not fragile. Even so, I highly doubted her ability to take down a full-grown human, not to mention an angry and/or belligerent one. Guess she'd be relying on some quick-thinking skills to make up for her obvious lack in brute strength. Hopefully she _had_ quick-thinking skills.

I wasn't sure why she was wearing the suit. Maybe she assumed this was like an interview or something, but I'd always been told to know the job you're applying for and dress appropriately. Although I'd probably pay money to see her try and take down hardened criminals in this get-up, it would mostly be for the humor factor. The suit looked wrinkled and uncomfortable, and she walked like the shoes pinched her toes. Not the best attire for tracking skips. Improperly dressed: -1.

Given her appearance, I was a little surprised that she hardly reacted to mine. Didn't make a face, didn't flinch. Heck, she didn't even bat an eye. And I looked pretty darn intimidating. I'd made sure of that. And yet here she sat, completely unfazed. Apparent fearlessness: +1.

Enough of the sizing each other up. It was time for the real fun to begin.

"Sooooo," I started. "Connie says I'm supposed to make you into a badass fugitive apprehension agent. She says you need to get the crash course." It was time to find out how serious little miss Stephanie was about this line of work. Time to start digging into her _true_ motives. "What's the rush?"

She turned her attention toward the parking lot. "You see the brown Nova at the curb?"

Hard to miss that hunk of scrap metal, but I humored her anyway. "Uh huh."

"That's my car."

It was an unfortunate vehicle. A real automotive POS. But that was hardly a reason to start hunting skips. There were better ways to make some quick cash. Something else was motivating her.

"So you need money. Anything else?" I pried.

She shifted slightly. "Personal reasons."

And there it was. What do you wanna bet that she wanted to stick it to someone in the system? Maybe it was some chick who stole her boyfriend in school, or maybe it was a guy who got her all riled up and conveniently forgot to call. Either way, her motives weren't very promising: -1.

"Bond enforcement is dangerous business," I reminded her. "Those personal reasons better be pretty f-ing good."

She looked me over and decided to turn the tables. "What are your reasons for doing this?"

Nice diversion: +1.

I shrugged. "It's what I do best." My answer amused her.

"Maybe someday I'll be good at this too."

I almost openly laughed at that, but caught myself before doing so. It seemed like she was being sincere. Interesting. Focused on self-improvement and growth potential: +1.

"Right now my motive is steady employment."

Ok, she wants a quick paycheck. Maybe the bill collectors are getting a little creative. I get it. Wonder whose bond made her think this would all be worth it. Only a handful came to mind. "Vinnie give you a skip?"

"Joseph Morelli."

Damn. I couldn't help myself this time. It was too funny not to laugh about. Vinnie gave _her_ Morelli? That guy's got a seriously warped sense of humor.

"Oh man! Are you kidding me? You aren't gonna get that dude. This isn't some street punk you're going after. This guy's smart. And he's good. You know what I'm telling you?"

Her attention shifted to my biceps. "Connie says _you're_ good."

Does she now? Wonder what else she says about me. Probably nothing good. Still, the flattery was nice: +1. I continued to watch Stephanie. Maybe this was all an elaborate set-up. Too bad this girl was looking pretty serious.

If she'd meant what she'd said, I knew where she was going with all this. She was hoping if she was trained by the best, then she'd suddenly morph into the Karate Kid: a non-skilled nobody instantly turned Jet Li. Hate to break it to you, babe, but that's Hollywood. This is Jersey.

I already knew she wasn't going to make the cut, so I decided to try and break it to her easy. "There's me, and then there's you, and you aren't ever going to be as good as me, Sweet Thing."

I half-expected her shoulders to slump in disappointment. Or a frown to sneak across her cute little mouth in defeat. Instead, her eyes got a touch of fire behind them. It kind of caught me off guard.

"Let me make my position clear to you," she said leaning forward. The intensity of her now flaming blue eyes was starting to turn me on. I was caught in a trance, completely unable to look away. "I'm out of work. I've had my car repossessed, my refrigerator is empty, I'm going to get kicked out of my apartment, and my feet don't fit in these shoes. I haven't got a lot of energy to waste socializing. Are you going to help me or what?"

Well, damn. She'd called my bluff. I'd totally forgotten about the point tally the moment those fierce blue eyes came into play. Talk about an ace up the sleeve. I'd made up my mind to help her; she'd probably sensed that. Still, I wasn't about to waste a perfectly good opportunity for some free entertainment.

"This is gonna be fun," I grinned. "This here's gonna be like Professor Higgins and Eliza Doolittle Does Trenton."

Stephanie mused for a moment over the reference. So I like My Fair Lady? Big whoop. Besides, the analogy is beyond perfect. From what I can tell, Stephanie Plum is going to be learning the bond enforcement trade from ground zero. Talk about your school of hard knocks. What do you bet she's never even fired a gun before?

She interrupted my thoughts with a simple question. "What do I call you?"

I couldn't tell if she was being snarky, but I decided to take the question at face value. Best to keep things simple. "My street name. Ranger."

I reached across the table to grab the paperwork she'd brought from Vinnie. Time to see just how deep the shit was that I'd gotten myself into. Maybe if I was lucky, she might have already started some of the groundwork. Never hurts to be optimistic, right?

"You do anything on this yet?" I asked while reading. "You check out his apartment?"

She brightened a little. Cute. Maybe she'd found herself a little lead. "He wasn't there, but I got lucky and found him in an apartment on State Street. I got there just as he was leaving."

So she already had eyes on this guy. Maybe she wasn't going to be so bad after all. "And?"

She shrugged. "He left."

There goes that thought. "Shit, didn't anybody tell you that you were supposed to stop him?"

She frowned a little. Probably wasn't overly amused by my sarcasm. "I asked him to come to the police station with me, but he said he didn't want to."

She couldn't possibly be serious, could she? She _asked_ him to come to the police station? I felt the unavoidable urge to laugh again. She probably even said please. Holy moly, this chick was a freaking riot! At least I wouldn't be lacking in entertainment while showing her the ropes.

"I don't suppose you've got a gun?" I asked still grinning. I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.

"You think I should get one?"

It might be negotiable if she had a tiny flame-thrower hidden somewhere in that purse of hers. But I had a feeling she probably didn't.

"Might be a good idea," I said holding back another laugh. I restacked the papers and put them back in the file once I'd finished reading through them. I knew there was a reason I didn't want to mess with this case. Guess it was time to lay it all out there and see if she still wanted to play with the big boys.

"Morelli offed a guy named Ziggy Kulesza. Used his personal piece to put a .45 hydroshock between Ziggy's eyes at close range." I glanced over at her waiting for a look of disgust. "You know anything about guns?"

"I know I don't like them."

Figures. Guns definitely weren't just some cute little accessories. Glad she already understood that. In fact, they could do some very serious damage. Probably about time Miss Plum got a better idea of just how much damage they could do. "A .45 hydroshock goes in nice and neat, but when it comes out it makes a hole the size of a potato. You end up with brains all over the place. Ziggy's head probably exploded like an egg in a microwave."

I watched her squirm a little at that last statement. "Gee, I'm glad you shared that with me."

Man, this chick was fun. I couldn't help but smile. "I figured you'd want to know."

I leaned back and crossed my arms casually. This meeting was surprisingly more enjoyable than I had been anticipating. Connie was going to be sorely disappointed.

"You know any of the background on this case?" I asked.

Of course, I'd already gleaned what I needed to know from the file, but I wanted to see what she was able to pick up. Make sure she knew how to pay attention to the details.

She spouted off the report specifics: Morelli claimed to have been at the apartment complex on police business. He was meeting with Carmen Sanchez, but she wasn't there. Kulesza opened the door instead and drew a gun. Morelli claimed to have shot him in self-defense. No one actually saw the exchange between Morelli and Kulesza, but the neighbors heard the shot go off. Someone subdued Morelli until the cops showed up. No Carmen, no gun on Ziggy, and there'd been a rumored third party that magically disappeared. The physical evidence made Morelli look guilty as hell.

I was a little impressed how quickly she absorbed all the basics of the case. But I was also starting to see a possibility for what she claimed were her personal reasons. Morelli had a reputation around town for being pretty popular with the ladies. Starting to wonder just how well he knows Stephanie.

She'd done alright with the details; at least for a newbie. Maybe she'd done some additional digging on Morelli or Kulesza. "You know anything else?"

"That's about it."

Guess it was time to tell her some of what I knew. "The guy Morelli shot worked for Benito Ramirez. The name mean anything?"."

She thought for a moment. "Ramirez is a boxer."

"More than a boxer. He's an f-ing wonder. Heavyweight. The biggest thing to happen to Trenton since George shafted the Hessians. Trains in a gym on Stark Street. Ziggy used to stick to Ramirez like white on rice. Sometimes Ziggy'd do some sparring. Mostly Ramirez kept him on as a gofer and a bodyguard."

I watched her process the information. "There any word on the street about why Morelli shot Kulesza?"

She was headed in the right direction. Starting to ask the right questions. "None. But Morelli must have had a good reason. Morelli's a cool guy, and if a cop wants to pop someone, there are ways."

"Even cool cops make mistakes."

"Not like this, babe. Not Morelli."

"So what are you telling me?" I could see the light start to flicker on. I think the money wasn't sounding quite so easy anymore.

"I'm telling you to be careful." And maybe it's time to start thinking about more suitable employment options. She looked conflicted, and yet still determined. Maybe I could still persuade her to let all this go.

"You still want to tag him?" I could sense a small shred of doubt. "If you don't do it, someone else will. That's something you got to learn. And you got no business making judgments. You just do your job, and bring the man in. Got to trust the system."

No one trusted the system. I could tell she'd have a problem with that. She'd want to do the _right_ thing. That wouldn't always play out well in the system.

"Do you trust in the system?" I liked how she was subtly trying to figure me out. It's like she somehow knew all of this was a mask. A mask I wore flawlessly. Yet she still sensed there was more underneath it all. Interesting.

"Beats the shit out of anarchy."

"There's a lot of money involved here. If you're so good, why didn't Vinnie give Morelli to you? Why did he originally give him to Morty Byers?"

It was a good amount of money, but the case was a mess. It obviously went deeper than a bad situation with a cop. And I wasn't interested in wading through the mud even if there was a decent payday at the other end.

"Vinnie moves in mysterious ways."

"Anything else I should know about Morelli?"

Yep. Last trick up my sleeve. "If you want your money, you better find your man fast. Rumor has it the judicial system is the least of his problems."

The subtle implications weren't lost on her. "Are you telling me there's a contract out on him?" She looked a little surprised.

I made my hand into a gun and fired it. "Bang."

"You sure about this rumor?"

"Just repeating what I heard." Hopefully every frightening scene from the Godfather series was flashing through her mind. Along with the thought that those things could happen to her if she got mixed up in all of this.

"The plot thickens." Shit. My plan backfired. Somehow I'd made her _more_ interested in the case.

"Like I said before, you don't care about the plot. Your job is simple. Find the man, bring him in." Don't go all Nancy Drew. You'll wind up with too many questions. And maybe even a one-way ticket to the pearly gates.

"Do you think I can do it?"

Honestly? "No."

The fire flashed again behind her eyes. Damn, they were captivating.

"Will you help me anyway?"

"Long as you don't tell nobody. Wouldn't want to tarnish my image by looking like a good guy."

She didn't acknowledge the subtle joke. All her attention was focused on the case. "Okay, where do I begin?"

Great question. Guess it wouldn't hurt to start with the right tools of the trade. "First thing we need to do is get you outfitted. And while we collect your hardware, I'm gonna tell you about the law."

She made a face. "This isn't going to be expensive, is it?"

"My time and knowledge are coming to you free of charge because I like you, and I always wanted to be Professor Higgins." Not to mention I owed Connie that favor. "But handcuffs cost $40 a pair. You got plastic?"

I'd never tell her, but I would've bought her equipment myself. Especially since I half expected her to turn in her gear by the end of the week. Maybe the end of the month tops. Funny how first impressions can be so completely wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

_Funny Sidenote: I hadn't planned on writing anything beyond the first encounter here. In fact, I thought I had marked "complete" when I first submitted it, but I was so impressed by all the responses that I decided to continue. Doubt I'll do ALL of their encounters together, but who knows? The dialogue is taken from OFTM pp. 79-82._

I'll admit, Professor Higgins sounded like a lot more fun in my head. The reality? My Eliza Doolittle is kind of a pain in the ass. She's not _entirely_ incompetent, but she's definitely more than a little naïve.

I gave her an abbreviated rundown of the legal system on the drive over to pick up her gear. At least it'll give her a rough idea where the bond enforcement shit fits into everything. Although I could tell she was listening to most of it, I wasn't sure how much she was actually comprehending. We'd probably have to do more hands-on training before everything started to make sense. On the positive side, she seemed like a pretty quick study.

By the time we were buying her equipment, she was starting to look like a deer in headlights. Still, she refused to throw in the towel. Sheer stubbornness and determination wrapped in a blouse, skirt, and heels. It'll probably be her eventual success…or maybe undoing. I guess only time will tell on that one.

We started looking at options for guns, and I swear her face almost turned green. I handed her a few to try out, and she picked them up like they were live grenades. It was almost comical except for the fact that I knew she'd need to be comfortable using one. It could mean the difference between a bad day on the job and a _really_ bad day. Maybe she'll only ever have to use it as an intimidation tactic, but in the back of my mind, I know that's probably just wishful thinking.

She finally settled on the Smith and Wesson revolver with a little help and input from me. I held back a grin when we went to check out. She heaved the most pathetic sigh like she was seriously doubting the initial expense was going to be worth it. Maybe I'd reimburse her if things didn't work out. Wouldn't want her to be too far up the creek without some sort of life raft.

She dropped me off back at the café, and I gave her a few parting words of wisdom. She wrote down my number and promised to call if she had any questions or if she felt like there was a situation that needed my expertise. She'd probably call in an hour or two panicking that she'd forgotten how to load her gun. How can someone be so incredibly annoying an oddly endearing at the same time? Just one of the many mysteries that I'd only scratched the surface of surrounding Stephanie Plum.

I got a call from her a few days later. Apparently she'd survived longer on her own than I'd predicted. She filled me in on what she'd done on the case so far, and I tried to be encouraging, but really I knew she was taking too long with Morelli.

You get contracts out on people and usually it's only a matter of time before they magically disappear in a suspicious cloud of smoke. Situations like that meant no body receipt. The window of opportunity to bring in the cop was closing, and my little Miss Doolittle didn't even know where the house was with the window.

She asked if I thought taking a look at Morelli's apartment was a good idea. Probably couldn't hurt. The cops had more than likely already done a walk-through of the place for any evidence related to the case. Of course, no cop's gonna be dumb enough to lay low in his own apartment. But who knows? She could get lucky.

Of course asking my opinion on the whole apartment thing wasn't the real reason she called. She called because she wanted someone there to do her dirty work for her. Normally I would've said "tough luck," but after some further consideration, I decided this was a good hands-on training opportunity. Probably wouldn't encounter anything too dangerous, and she could get a better idea of what handy things might be useful in our line of work. I agreed to meet her at the apartment complex in an hour.

I showed up a little early and grabbed Morelli's apartment key from the super. No point in breaking down doors if you don't have to, right? Plus I was a little curious to see if Stephanie would think to do something like that. Probably not. She was still a little new to the game to be thinking about clever little tricks like that.

I was waiting in the parking lot, leaning against my car, when she pulled in a few minutes later. For some oddball reason, she parked several parking spaces away from me. Maybe I'd gone a little overboard with the "street thug" thing and rattled her a bit. Or maybe she was just embarrassed about her car. It was sporting an interesting new paint job after all. It was kinda pathetic; the neon pink and green spray paint almost improved the hideousness of the rusted brown underneath.

She casually walked over. "Your car?" she asked nodding to the Mercedes.

Like the car could've belonged to someone else. I shrugged. "Life's been good to me." My attention shifted back over to her car. "Nice paint job. You been on Stark Street?"

"Yes, and they stole my radio."

I smirked. "Heh, heh, heh. Good of you to make a contribution to the less fortunate." Probably should have just left the keys in the ignition too. Seen if there was some crazy lowlife dumb enough to haul that pile of crap away.

"I'm willing to contribute the entire car, but no one wants it." Ha! Great minds think alike. Cute.

"Just 'cause the dudes be crazy don't mean they be stupid." She rolled her eyes. I nodded toward the building. "Doesn't seem like anyone's home, so we'll have to do the unguided tour."

She got a funny look on her face. "Is this illegal?"

More like a gray area, but I won't make her worry about that. Maybe give her a little confidence boost instead. "Hell no. We got the law, babe. Bounty hunters can do anything. We don't even need a search warrant."

I started putting on my gear without a second thought. Stephanie stood watching me in a kind of fascinated amusement. Maybe I wouldn't end up needing any of this, but she needed to know that you always had to expect the unexpected in this line of work. It ensured you always had control of any situation. No matter how crazy things got.

"I don't expect Morelli to be in there," I explained, "but you never know. You always want to be prepared." She must have decided she had all she needed because she didn't go back and grab any of her gear from her car. Probably assumed her Professor Higgins would bail her out if things somehow got interesting. And I would too. But probably just this once.

We headed towards Morelli's apartment, and I knocked on the door. "Anybody home?" I yelled. As previously predicted, nobody answered.

Stephanie glanced over at me. "Now what? You going to kick the door in?"

I did a mental eye roll. "No way. You could break your foot doing that macho shit." So basically don't go trying it just to make yourself feel cool.

"You're going to pick the lock, right? Use a credit card?"

Ha, like I needed a credit card… I shook my head. "You've been watching too much television. Got a key from the super while I was waiting for you." Take note, babe. Don't go overcomplicating things.

I held the door open for her as we entered the apartment. She walked in with a guilty look on her face. I sighed. Rule number two, babe: be confident. Most people don't ask questions if it looks like you know what you're doing.

The place was simple, clean. Nothing fancy. I told Stephanie to start looking for anything useful like an address book, pieces of mail, or a planner with appointments. I didn't think we'd find much, but it was worth a look.

"Nothing here," I said before I hit the play button on the answering machine in the kitchen. Stephanie and I listened for a moment, but there were only two messages. One was from some random chick and the other was from Morelli's mother. Neither seemed to know much about Morelli's whereabouts.

I flipped the machine over and wrote down the security and special message codes from the back. "You take these numbers and you can access his messages from an outside phone," I explained. "Maybe something'll turn up."

We finished our search in the main area and headed back to the bedroom. Stephanie was looking around like she was on a walk down memory lane. It was obvious she knew this guy. Maybe a friend. Probably something more. It's not like I really cared. But I knew personal shit didn't mix well with the whole apprehension thing. Guess she'd have to figure that one out the hard way.

The bedroom was mostly cleaned out save for a few odds and ends. Morelli wasn't planning on coming back any time soon. We made our way back out to the kitchen.

"This place is clean," I said turning back to Stephanie. "You're not going to find anything to help you here. And I doubt he'll return. Looks to me like he took everything he needed."

She nodded. I spotted a spare set of keys hanging on the wall and handed them to her. "Hang on to these. No sense bothering the super if you want to get in again."

She tossed them in her bag as I locked up the apartment. We dropped the super's key off and headed back out to the parking lot. The search hadn't been a complete waste of time, I guess. Stephanie had hopefully learned a few things in the process and I'd had a few laughs. We still didn't have our skip, but there wasn't any blood or crying. Not a bad outing in my estimation.

I hopped in my car. Stephanie was watching me with a subtle hint of curiosity. Probably still trying to figure me out. Guess since I had an audience, I'd give her a show. I put on my badass mirrored shades, flipped open my sun roof, and turned on some loud music, heavy on the base. My car screeched out of the lot in true street thug fashion.

After driving two blocks down the road, I shut the sun roof and killed the music. That shit was just for show. I preferred to drive in a quiet car. Accompanied only by my thoughts and the gentle hum of the car's engine.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: All of this is Janet's. Just having some fun filling in the blanks. The dialogue is from OFTM pp._ 110-113. _There were a number of readers who were eagerly anticipating this scene, so hopefully it lives up to expectations._

Sometimes you know a bad decision before you even make it. Like when you grab something out of the fridge that's been in there a while and decide to eat it anyway. Or when things are getting hot and heavy with a girl, you don't have any protection, and she tells you she's got it covered. Yeah, I know all about bad decisions.

You'd think with as much experience as I've had with them, the bad decisions would get easier to notice. Sometimes they are. However, the really bad ones still seem to sneak up on me and practically laugh in my face as they happen. It was kind of that way with Stephanie.

I honestly don't think she tried to sneak up on me. It's not like she had some sinister playbook with my name on it. But even from those first few times I was around her, I was already starting to realize that her presence was like a heavy fog obscuring everything until it was too late to turn back. Like how she'd changed my mind about helping her back at the café. Or how she'd gotten me to agree to help her search Morelli's place. Just little things, really. But something told me that I needed to draw a line somewhere with her soon. A line that I needed to know I'd never cross.

Maybe if I was lucky, she'd let me off the hook. Maybe she'd give up this man hunt, throw in the towel, and I could go back to the way things were before I'd ever even heard the name Stephanie Plum. Of course, that was all just wishful thinking.

Not even twenty-four hours had passed since the apartment search when I got another call from my quirky Miss Doolittle. It was late, sometime during the middle of the night, when I heard my phone ring. I answered it without even thinking.

"Yo."

"Ranger?"

In my grogginess I tried to place the voice. "Who wants to know?"

"Stephanie Plum. I have a problem."

Shit. This was exactly what I was afraid of. Was she out playing detective in the middle of the night? Or was she hurt? Horrible scenarios started shooting rapid-fire through my mind.

"What's the problem?" I asked sitting up in bed. Please let it be nothing serious.

I thought I almost heard her sigh. "I'm handcuffed to my shower curtain rod, and I need someone to open the cuffs."

No. F-ing. Way. Handcuffed to her _shower curtain rod_? You've gotta be kidding me! What do you bet she was playing with her cuffs and thought she'd go all badass with some Houdini shit? Or worse, maybe it was some kinky date gone wrong. Good grief… Hate to break this to you babe, but those are definitely _not_ toys. And I'm _not_ bailing you out on this one. You're on your own.

I ended the call and pulled the covers back over my head. But not before a quick laugh. This chick was nuts.

I'd just found that comfy spot in my bed when the phone rang…again! And I had a feeling I already knew who it was.

"Yo!" I snapped.

"Don't hang up! This is serious, dammit. I'm trapped in my bathroom. My front door is locked and no one has a key."

And this was my problem because…? I rubbed my eyes. "Why don't you call the cops? They love this rescue shit."

"Because I don't want to have to explain to the cops. And besides," she added after a few moments of hesitation, "I'm naked."

 _Naked_?! "Heh, heh, heh." She _definitely_ had my attention now.

"It's not funny. Morelli broke into my apartment while I was in the shower, and the son of a bitch handcuffed me to the shower rod."

Interesting. "You gotta like the guy."

The tone in her voice shifted to pissed and tired. And probably a little desperate. "Are you going to help me, or what?" Guess she wasn't as amused by all of this as I was. Can't imagine why…

"Where do you live?" I asked.

"The apartment building on the corner of St. James and Dunworth. Apartment 215. It's a rear apartment. Morelli got in by climbing the fire escape and going through the window. You can probably do the same."

I got ready _very slowly_. Eliza Doolittle needed some time to learn a lesson from all of this. Namely, to never let her guard down. And I wanted her to think about the fact that she'd just called an almost-stranger to bail her out of a very precarious situation. Sure, I had labeled myself her Professor Higgins, but she was dumping a shitload of trust into the fact that I wasn't also a disgusting pervert. Not the smartest move, babe. Not by a long shot.

I brewed myself some coffee and hopped in my car. On the drive over, I realized I had absolutely no idea what to do with Stephanie Plum. On the one hand, she was spunky and persistent; there was probably some underlying potential there. And despite my best efforts, I was kind of starting to enjoy her oddball antics. On the other hand, I was worried that if I kept playing along as her Professor Higgins, sooner or later her little mistakes were going to turn into bigger mistakes and she'd wind up in the hospital…or worse. I really didn't need something like that on my conscience.

By the time I pulled into the lot behind her apartment complex, I'd made up my mind to pull the plug on this little Higgins-Doolittle-Does-Trenton operation. She simply had no business doing this stuff. I don't care what she had going on with Morelli. Maybe to soften the blow, I'd make a few calls and see about finding her another job.

Since it was raining, I took the stairs to the second floor and found myself suddenly standing outside of apartment 215. I tried the door handle, but she was right, it was locked. I pulled out one of my lock picks and let myself in.

The place was small and simple. And empty. Not a whole lot by way of appliances or furniture. I felt myself frown a little. She hadn't been joking when she'd said she was desperate for cash.

I made my way toward the bathroom and took a deep breath just outside the door. She'd probably managed to grab a towel by now anyway. I'd free her from the cuffs and we'd never speak of this embarrassing little incident again. Except remember what I said about those bad decisions? Yeah, this moment was definitely going to be one of mine. Because everything would have been a hell of a lot easier if I'd never seen her like that.

As I stepped into the doorway, a huge string of expletives filled my head. Not only had she _not_ managed to find a towel, but she didn't even bother trying to cover anything up. And she was obviously cold. And sexy as hell. For a moment, I just stood there staring. Honestly, I couldn't help it. This was like one of those real-life fantasy situations. Except for the hair. The hair was a little scary.

She looked too relieved when she saw me to be embarrassed or even mad. "I appreciate your coming out in the middle of the night," she almost sighed in relief.

Babe, _any_ man would have come out in the middle of the night for this. I smiled. "Didn't want to miss seeing you chained up naked."

The response didn't even phase her. I started to feel a little bad about taking so long to get here.

"The keys are in the mess on the floor."

I found them quickly and tried to imagine every non-sexy thing I could think of as I pulled the phone out of her fingers and unlocked the cuffs. I probably should have offered her a towel first, but I wasn't really one to waste opportunities like this. Even if that "bad decision" warning light was flashing like an immanent self-destruct signal. I'd deal with that later.

"You and Morelli got something kinky going on?" I asked. They obviously had _something_ going on. This stuff wasn't just part of your average work day as a bounty hunter. I'd ask around about that later.

"Remember when you gave me his key this afternoon?" she asked as she massaged her wrist.

I hardly registered what she was saying. Her body still had me incredibly distracted. And I knew I was giving a terrible performance as a respectable Henry Higgins. My mind had gone well below the gutter line the moment I stepped into that bathroom. I so desperately wanted to brush my lips across that deliciously soft, smooth skin of hers and make her forget all about Morelli. And every other man on the planet for that matter. Shit. I needed to get a grip.

"Uh huh."

"I sort of borrowed his car."

"Borrowed?" I tried my best to refocus on the conversation.

"Commandeered, actually. You know, about us having the law and all?"

The comment amused me and I smiled. I guess I'd have to be a little more specific with the "rules" from now on. I finally handed Stephanie a towel. Guess the erotic fantasy was over. For now.

"He understand about commandeering?"

"Let's just say he wasn't pleased." No shit. "Anyway, I parked the car in the lot out here and removed the distributor cap as a safety precaution."

I gave her a look. "Bet that went over big." Not a bad move though. Maybe a little risky, but I liked it. Guess Doolittle here was a little more resourceful than I'd initially given her credit for.

She stepped out of the tub, and I thought I saw her jump a little when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. I wanted to laugh, but I didn't.

She turned to me. "I need to install an alarm system in his car, but I haven't got the money."

 _That_ I could laugh about. Was she _serious_? Not only did she want to poke the angry bear, she wanted to run right in front of it smelling like dinner. "An alarm system," I repeated. "Morelli'll love that."

She didn't seem to care what I thought. She'd already decided this was how she wanted to move forward. Decisive, clear cut. I was really beginning to like this chick. I picked up a pen I saw on the floor and wrote down an address on a piece of toilet paper. "I know a garage that'll give you a price." I handed it to her.

I'd call Al in the morning. Tell him to give her a top-of-the-line system at a good but believable price. I'd pick up the cost of the discount if necessary.

Stephanie brushed past me into her bedroom and for a moment my breath caught in my chest. She'd never offer to… Nah. She was probably just throwing on some clothes or something. Too bad. A work of art like that shouldn't spend so much time being covered up.

She came back out in a long terrycloth robe. I tried not to frown in disappointment. "I heard you come in through the door," she said casually like this sort of thing happened all the time.

Guess she was surprised I didn't come in through the window. "Picked the lock. Didn't think it prudent to wake up the super." I glanced over at the window in her room. The rain was dripping in along the wall. "I only do the Spiderman shit in nice weather," I added.

She frowned as she walked over to the window. "Morelli wrecked my screen."

I shrugged. "Guess he in a hurry."

She raised an eyebrow my direction. "I've noticed you only talk ghetto half of the time."

I could feel my mouth twitch a little in amusement. "I'm multilingual."

The truth is, no matter how hard you try to hide it, your real identity always comes through when you're caught off guard. And I've been caught off guard a lot with Stephanie. The tough street thug persona was only gonna last so long anyway. I should've known that she'd catch onto it fast. Wonder what else she's caught on to?

I left her apartment that morning in a bit of a groggy haze and sure of just two things. First, seeing Stephanie naked was one of those _really_ bad decisions that I'd now have to come to terms with. And second, I knew I wasn't even remotely ready to get rid of my new little protégé. For a growing number of reasons. In fact, something in the back of my mind had me really starting to wonder if I'd ever be ready.


	4. Chapter 4

_Since I was already this far along, I figured I might as well finish out the Ranger scenes from OFTM. The dialogue's from OFTM pp. 157-161._

There used to be this guy I knew when I was doing full-time special ops missions for the military. His name was Greg, but everyone called him The Weatherman. We'd be on the road to some remote location and he'd be looking out the window watching the sky. It'd be crystal clear, peaceful and calm, then out of nowhere Greg would lean over and whisper, "There's a storm coming."

The first time he said it, I glanced out the window and wondered just how many combat missions you had to be a part of before you lost it like Greg. Hopefully I'd be done long before I ended up like that. But of course, he wasn't known as The Weatherman for nothing.

Within a few hours the sky would darken, the clouds would gather, and a raging storm would erupt seemingly out of nowhere. I never knew how he saw them coming. Maybe it was an old injury or a sixth sense or something like that. Hard to say. All I know is that most of the time, I don't notice the storms coming until I'm right in the thick of them. I've always seemed to make it through to the other side, but sometimes I come out a little worse for wear. Because some storms are definitely worse than others.

It was one hell of a stormy day when I heard from Stephanie again. The rain was coming down in sheets, and I'd already had to head home once that morning to change. Sometimes the skips tried to use the bad weather to their advantage, but of course that never stopped me from bringing them in. I'd been in far worse conditions doing far worse things. A little rain was nothing.

I'd just settled in to fill out some paperwork in dry clothes when my phone rang. I glanced at it and wondered if I should answer. I'd been thinking about her a lot lately. And not just in the inappropriate ways you might imagine after the whole shower debacle.

Morelli's case was starting to go dark. And I mean _really_ dark. The witnesses who'd seen anything the night of the murder were slowly winding up in highly suspicious-not to mention deadly-accidents. The whole thing wasn't sitting well with me; especially since Stephanie was already neck-deep in the investigation. And she wasn't showing signs of letting up any time soon.

If she was this serious about the job, I needed to devote more time and energy to train her. And I needed to make sure she wasn't picking up any more of the dangerous skip files. I'd make sure I'd be handling those from now on. By myself. She could learn on some of the lower profile skips.

I sighed a little in resignation and finally answered the phone. "Yo."

"I have a problem."

Same story different day. I smiled to myself thinking about our last encounter. "Are you naked?" I asked a little more seductively than I'd intended. I could sense her rolling her eyes over the phone.

"No, I'm not naked."

"Too bad."

"I have an FTA cornered in his house, but I'm not having any luck making an apprehension."

"You want to be more specific about the not having any luck part?"

She paused. Maybe a little embarrassed to continue. "He took my pocketbook and kicked me out of the house."

I raised my eyes in disbelief. Only Stephanie… Then I remembered she kept her gun in her pocketbook. "I don't suppose you managed to keep your gun," I half questioned, half stated.

"Don't suppose I did." She paused. "On the bright side, the gun wasn't loaded."

 _That_ was supposed to be the bright side? "You have ammo in your pocketbook?"

"I might have had a few loose bullets rolling around," she admitted sheepishly. Shit. A skip with a loaded gun. And Stephanie caught in the mix. Perfect. Just perfect.

"Where are you now?" I asked, a little afraid of the answer.

"In front of the house, in the Jeep." Well, at least she was safe. For now.

"And you want me to come over there and persuade your FTA to behave."

"Yeah."

I did a mental sigh. If it was anyone but her… "Good thing for you I'm into this Henry Higgins shit. What's the address?"

It was a house in Hamilton Township. Not too far away. I got my gear together and decided to head straight over. No telling what would happen if I waited to show up on this one.

I found Steph's commandeered Jeep and parked at the end of the street. We both got out of our vehicles. Good thing I'd spent most of the drive over mentally getting into my "zone" because Stephanie was all dolled up and wearing a t-shirt and jeans. And she was soaked to the bone.

I shook my head. She _had_ to be doing this on purpose. There was absolutely _no_ _way_ she couldn't know that she looked like she belonged at a wet t-shirt contest in one of those _Girls Gone Wild_ videos. Deep breaths, man. Deep breaths.

I did a quick mental recalibration as I strapped on my gun belt and Kevlar vest. Time to focus on the job.

"What's the FTA's name?" I asked as we met up in the rain.

"Lonnie Dodd."

"You got a photo?"

She ran back to the Jeep and came back with a picture. Dodd looked tough but not necessarily mean.

"What'd he do?"

"Auto theft," she answered. "First-time offender."

I studied the picture again. "He alone?"

"As far as I know. I can't guarantee it."

Hopefully a little luck would be on our side. "This house have a back door?"

"Don't know."

"Let's find out."

The house was your typical run-down collect-all for everything from an old, rusted swing set to a broken-down washing machine. The yard was wet and overgrown, which made it a little difficult to walk through. As we made it to the back, I pulled Stephanie up against the house out of view from the windows.

"You stay here and watch the back door. I'm going in the front. I don't want you to be a hero. You see anyone run for the train tracks, you keep out of their way. Got that?"

She nodded as the rain drops dripped off her nose. It was kind of pathetically adorable. "Sorry to put you through this," she frowned.

"This is partly my fault," I admitted. "I haven't been taking you serious enough. If you're really going to do this job, you're going to need somebody to help you with the takedown. And we need to spend some time talking about apprehension techniques."

"I need a partner," she stated simply.

"Yeah. You need a partner." I let the realization sink in that the two of us were going to have to spend a lot more time together. In a professional capacity, of course. Then I made my way back around to the front of the house.

I knocked on the door and gave my spiel. Dodd promptly responded with some colorful adjectives for Vinnie then continued with some vulgar activity suggestions he found suitable for bounty hunting scum like myself. I used his ranting tirade as an opportunity to catch him off guard.

I kicked in the door and yelled for him to drop to the floor. Of course Dodd was in no mood to cooperate. He took one look at me and narrowed his eyes. "Take another step and I'll f-ing kill you!" he yelled.

I took a few seconds to weigh my options. Nothing was in reaching distance to throw at him, I had my vest, and he probably wasn't that great of a shot anyway. I decided to take my chances and charge him.

I'd already braced myself for the possibility of getting hit, but when Dodd reached for the gun and a shot rang out, it still caught me by surprise. Probably because he missed the vest. Dodd used my brief moment of shock to take off running out the back. Shit. Shit. Shit. Stephanie was back there.

I tried to run after him before the pain exploded in my leg. It didn't take many steps before my run turned into more of a rough hobble. Hopefully Eliza took what I'd said earlier to heart.

Of course, she didn't. I heard her yell for me just as I got to the door, and watched as Dodd lost his footing and slipped in the mud. Stephanie took the opportunity to clobber him with a full-on body slam. She yanked the gun out of his pants and somehow managed to scramble to her feet, her whole body shaking with adrenaline and rage.

"Don't move!" she yelled sending a few shivers up my spine. "Don't f-ing move or I'll shoot."

For a brief moment I thought she was going to shoot him anyway. Just because. But by the time I made it over to them, she'd already started reeling in some of those heightened adrenaline-infused emotions. She looked a little less fire-and-brimstone and a little more pissed-off-woman-in-the-rain.

I put my knee into Dodd's back and slapped on some cuffs. Then I yanked him to his feet. The process sent a wave of searing pain through my leg.

"This sonofabitch shot me," I said suddenly feeling the need to let off some steam. "Do you believe this shit? A lousy car thief shot me." I gave Dodd an aggressive push towards the road. I was soaking wet, my leg hurt like hell, and my rant was far from over. "I'm wearing an f-ing Kevlar vest. You think he could shoot me in the vest? No way. He's such a lousy shot, he's so chicken-shit scared, he shoots me in my f-ing leg."

Stephanie looked down and the blood almost immediately drained from her face. Guess the girl's never seen a real bullet wound before. Not pretty. Not fun. Maybe she'd be turning in her gear soon after all.

Except suddenly I didn't want her to. It had something to do with that moment when her eyes had narrowed and she'd aimed that gun at Dodd. I saw it then. She could really do this. With the right training, she might even be decent at it. Maybe even good. Eliza Doolittle might just turn out to be my fair lady after all.

"Run ahead and call the police," I said in an effort to snap her out of her horror-struck daze. "And call Al at the body shop to come get my car."

She shook her head slightly to refocus her thoughts. "You sure you're going to be ok?"

Her concern was endearing. "Flesh wound, babe. Nothing to worry about," I reassured her.

I watched her disappear back into the house before I blew out a breath and winced a little at the pain. My leg may have been a bit more than just a flesh wound. And I was already starting to see stars. At that moment I would have killed for a few shots of hard liquor to take the edge off.

Stephanie came back from the house a few minutes later, her pocketbook in hand, and took a seat next to me on the curb. She glanced over again at my leg and cringed. I told her I've had worse and tried to smile a little, but I don't think she really cared.

I watched as she tucked her legs up into her chest and hugged them tightly against her body. Maybe she was just trying to keep warm. More than likely she was blaming herself for the way things had turned out today. I wanted to lean over and put my arm around her, maybe kiss her cheek, just to remind her that shit happens sometimes. But I didn't.

Instead my attention was focused on the sky. Dark clouds hung low above us as the rain they carried continued to pour in spades. Thunder rumbled ominously off in the distance. Somewhere in my mind, I could sense the beginnings of an entirely different storm on the horizon. I glanced back over at Stephanie. Ok, it was obvious this storm wasn't _just_ beginning. But as usual, I'd missed all the warning signs. Those blue eyes caught mine for a moment. And I knew that I was already in for one long, crazy storm.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Ok, I've decided to give_ Two for the Dough _a shot through Ranger's perspective. Seems a bit trickier than the first book since he has several one liners and then disappears. Oh well. If I run into trouble, I may just start skipping around in the books. Maybe pick some of my favorite scenes or something. Anyway, until that happens, here's the next bit from the books_ _from_ Two for the Dough (pp _2-5). Apologies for my Spanish if it's incorrect. I can relate to Stephanie knowing little more than simple greetings and catch phrases. Thank goodness for Spanish-speaking friends, right?_

 **Second Thoughts**

I can't believe she did it. Stephanie Plum actually brought in Morelli. Heard she almost got herself killed in the process, but I guess in the end she got her payday. Along with a little memento to mark the occasion by way of a bullet in the ass. But hey, things could've been a lot worse.

At the end of the manhunt, I half expected her to call it a day, take her money and go find a more "appropriate" job. One minus all the bullets whizzing through the air and dead bodies. But she didn't. Maybe she had more bills to settle. Or maybe she really did believe she could do the whole bounty hunting thing.

Regardless of what I _thought_ she would do or what I felt she _should_ do, I found her back at the bonds office asking Vinnie for more FTA's. Guess I wasn't quite off the hook with this Henry Higgins shit after all. Except this time around, I wanted to do things the right way. If she was serious, it was time to show her how things really went down when you were fully equipped for the job.

When I was a kid, my family was invited over to a relative's house for a party one summer. All the adults stood around inside sipping drinks and socializing while all the kids ran around and played outside. I found a secluded corner and sat watching my cousins and siblings all having fun around me. But I was most intrigued by my cousins' in-ground pool.

The water looked cool and refreshing, and the kids capable of swimming looked to be having an inordinate amount of fun splashing around and playing water games. I found myself wishing I could join them, longing to be a part of the fun they were having. But the disappointing truth was that I didn't know how to swim.

My father stepped outside to do a quick check on the kids and saw me sitting in my corner. He walked over and knelt down beside me.

"¿Qué pasa, Mi'ijo?" he asked ruffling my hair. ( _What's wrong, son?)_

I frowned and pointed at the pool.

He smiled. "Ah, ya veo. ¿Quieres nadar?" ( _Oh, I see. Do you want to swim?)_

My eyes met his and I slowly nodded. He pulled me up onto my feet and pulled my shirt over my head. Then he had me remove my shoes. I remember feeling a sudden surge of excitement thinking that my dad was about to show me how to swim. Except the next thing I knew, he was giving me an abrupt shove straight into the water.

Panic and terror along with gallons of water immediately washed over me. My father had just tried to drown me! I clawed and kicked my way towards the surface wondering at what point someone would come to my rescue. Despite my father's intentions, surely my own mother wouldn't let me drown.

Miraculously I managed to reach the surface, gasping and sputtering to catch my breath. Then something strange happened. The realization set in that I _hadn't_ drowned and that the continuous movement from my arms and legs was keeping my head above the water. I relaxed slightly and leaned my body to move in different directions. I was swimming!

At last I reached the edge of the pool, and sighed in relief at not having to exert so much energy anymore. The initial surge of adrenaline had started to wear off, and I was able to take in more of my surroundings. My cousins were still playing as if nothing had happened.

Then I noticed a shadow towering above me in the pool. I glanced up and saw my father. He had a knowing smile on his face.

"Estoy tan orgulloso de ti, Mi'ijo," he said. ( _I'm proud of you, son.)_

I was pretty proud of myself too. But mostly I was relieved that my father hadn't purposely tried to kill me.

After several successful apprehensions with Stephanie, I figured it was probably time to take a note from my dad's playbook and let her swim on her own for a while. It wasn't exactly letting her sink or swim because I'd still be in the metaphoric pool with her, but I wanted to give her a chance to try things out, to make mistakes and decide what was going to work best for her. The learning opportunity presented itself a while later in the form of a skip named Kenny Mancuso.

He was a higher bond situation and was charged with shooting a gas station attendant in the knee. Rumor had it that said attendant was at one point a close friend. I'll admit the circumstances were a little curious, but I was hoping Stephanie would take what I'd said in the past to heart and ignore the circumstances. The job was just to bring in the FTA. The cops could handle all that other shit.

I'd handed her the file in the office and told her to call me when she was ready for the take-down. She seemed shocked at first like I was handing her some sacred document, but then that fierce fire flashed behind her eyes, and I felt pretty good about turning her loose. She could do this.

A few days later, Stephanie called with a lead on Mancuso. She gave me an address and asked if I would meet her later that night to help bring in Kenny. I couldn't help smiling a little into the phone. So far my apprentice seemed to be moving in the right direction.

Three hours of squatting in the dark later, I was starting to think my assessment may have been a little premature. I kept glancing over at Stephanie waiting for her to call it, but her stubborn nature just wouldn't let her. I was beginning to worry if things were left up to her, she'd make us stay the whole damn night. So I finally made the executive decision to end our misery.

"Don't think this is gonna happen," I stated quietly.

An indignant look crossed her face. "I spoke to Julia this morning. Explained to her that she could be considered an accessory."

Julia Cenetta was rumored to be Kenny's girl. We'd been sitting outside her house in the hydrangea bushes waiting for him to drop by for some "socializing." At least that was the situation Stephanie had been counting on. I had a feeling she'd probably been played.

"And that made her decide to cooperate?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not exactly. She decided to cooperate when I told her how before the shooting Kenny had been sometimes seeing Denise Barkolowski."

I couldn't help but smile. At least she knew how to use her skills to her advantage. "You lie about Denise?" I asked pretty sure I already knew the answer.

"Yeah."

Stephanie could lie with the best of them. It was almost scary how easily she managed it. "Proud of you, babe."

There was a small smile in response. It reminded me a little of my swimming lesson memory.

"Looks like maybe she thought twice about reaping the rewards of revenge and waved Kenny away," I continued. "You find out where he's living?"

She shrugged. "He's moving around. Julia doesn't have a phone number for him. She says he's being careful."

I was pretty confident that _I_ would've been able to find out where Kenny was staying by now, but it was almost a relief knowing Stephanie didn't know where to go for that kind of information.

"He a first-time offender?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Probably nervous about checking into the big house. Heard all those stories about date rape."

Stephanie made a face like she wasn't sure what to do with that last statement. She rarely let my intimidation tactics get to her, which was part of the reason I liked her. It was kind of refreshing to be looked at as something other than a sexual conquest or the f-ing grim reaper for a change. Still, I think I fell in the Stephanie categorization of a bad guy with good intentions. But maybe not. Like I said, Stephanie could lie with the best of them.

Just then a brand new Toyota 4x4 pulled into the driveway of the house we'd been watching. The lighting wasn't very good, so it was difficult to make out the driver's appearance as he made his way up to the front door. I turned to Stephanie knowing she'd had ample time to assess the pictures of Kenny from the file.

"What do you think?" I asked. "Is that Mancuso?"

She squinted her eyes in an attempt to make out more detail. I was hoping she had a pair of binoculars stashed somewhere for a situation like this. But of course she didn't. Maybe they wouldn't have helped much anyway.

"Could be him, but I can't swear to it without seeing his face."

I waited a moment to see what she'd do next. But she was chewing her lip like she wasn't sure. My legs were long past numb, so I decided it was time to move things along.

"We could go knock on the door nice and polite and ask if he's the man."

She was too flustered by the situation to notice the sarcasm. "That might work."

Alright then. Showtime. We stood and adjusted our gun belts and got the blood flowing to our legs again. I glanced down and saw Stephanie's red shoes amidst the rest of her dark attire and almost laughed. I wondered if they represented a little rebellious streak.

My mind wandered for a moment thinking about Stephanie as a kid. She'd probably given her parents a run for their money. Maybe she'd never owned a gun, but I had a feeling she liked to walk on the wild side from time to time. Suddenly the whole blood flow thing shifted into hyper drive, and I felt myself warming in all the wrong places. Shit. At least it was dark out.

I quickly redirected my thoughts back to the situation at hand as we crossed the lawn and made our way up to the front door. I gave it a knock with my flashlight, and we waited. Nothing.

I knocked harder. "Fugitive apprehension agent," I stated. "Open the door."

The door opened. But it wasn't Kenny. And it wasn't Julia. It was none other than the recently exonerated Trenton cop, Joseph Morelli. Interesting. We all just stood for a moment taking in the strangeness of the situation.

"That your truck in the driveway?" I finally asked.

Morelli looked over at it. "Yeah. Just got it."

No big surprise there. I'd heard his previous vehicle that Stephanie had "commandeered" during the Morelli apprehension quest had gone up in flames. Not sure how the insurance people tried to handle that one, but it seemed that things had turned out pretty well for Morelli.

I nodded. "Good-looking vehicle." Not what I'd prefer to drive necessarily, but it was dark, kinda flashy, and definitely made a statement. Seemed like an ideal fit for the cop.

Julia suddenly poked her head out from behind the door. Stephanie's eyes narrowed.

"So what happened?" she asked, the irritation obvious in her vocal inflection. "I thought Kenny was supposed to stop around tonight?"

"Yeah, right," Julia scoffed. "Like he ever does anything he says."

Stephanie wasn't about to let that response fly. She took a step toward Julia. "Did he call?"

"Nothing. No call. Nothing. He's probably with Denise Barkolowski. Why don't you go knock on her stupid door?"

I wanted to smile. But I didn't. Instead I glanced around at the situation and decided it was time to call it a night. "I'm out of here," I said sneaking a glance over at Stephanie. "Don't like to get involved in these domestic disturbances."

I turned and headed back toward my car, disappearing once again into the shadows. It wasn't entirely obvious why Morelli had made an appearance at Julia's place this evening. I had a few guesses, but I wanted to let things play out a little further. And it also wasn't entirely obvious if Stephanie had been completely duped by Julia. The comment about Denise suggested Kenny might not currently be standing in Julia's good graces. But I'd caught a glimpse of the outfit she'd been wearing. She was definitely waiting for someone. Whether or not it was Kenny was debatable.

The one thing that was strikingly obvious this evening was the sexual tension that erupted between Stephanie and Morelli the moment he opened that door. I'd had my suspicions about it earlier with the whole shower situation, but now I'd had a chance to see it with my own two eyes. It was like some crazy cosmic magnet that the two of them were part of. The pull was obviously drawing them together. I didn't need to be part of some weird threesome shit. So I decided right then and there that Stephanie Plum would never, could never be more than my colleague. Because getting mixed up in cosmic magnets could only lead to disaster.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: Not mine, yada yada, no profit, etc. Dialogue from TFTD pp. 37-38._

I honestly didn't know how she did it. Stephanie Plum was a magnet for some pretty crazy shit. Not even twenty-four hours had passed since our late-night stakeout, and the FTA she'd been tracking was now looking at potential charges beyond assault with a deadly weapon. The dude Kenny popped in the knee randomly turned up dead. Could all be coincidental. But I've been in this business long enough in these parts that "coincidental" isn't something that happens as often as you'd think.

And who do you suppose I encouraged to take on this particular FTA case? None other than our favorite Nancy Drewlittle, of course. Miss I'd-Like-To-Solve-The-Puzzle-Please. Dammit.

I heard the call on Moogey come in over the police scanner and frowned. Stephanie had a few connections at the PD, so she'd probably follow a lead or two before giving me a call. Hopefully it would only be to assist in the takedown.

Shit. Who was I kidding? She'd call and want the underground dirt on the guys involved. She'd want details. She'd want to solve the whole damn case.

Stephanie Plum was in the wrong line of business. She wanted to be Superman; taking down the bad guys, righting the wrongs, keeping the darkness of humanity at bay. When in reality it was so much simpler than that. A two-step process: 1. Find your guy and 2. Bring him in. And for whatever reason Stephanie felt the need to add like twenty extra steps. Typical.

I glanced at my watch. My guess was that I'd get a call from her the following morning. Probably to meet up somewhere. I think she preferred the face-to-face time. And as much as I hated to admit it, I kind of did too.

Sure enough. Got a call the next morning. I'd been awake for a while already, but I had a feeling Stephanie's day had probably just started. I agreed to meet her at a local coffee shop and took a moment to plan my wardrobe. It was kind of fun messing with her. I pulled on some expensive snakeskin boots and a black leather jacket. It wasn't my most creative outfit selection, but I was pretty sure it would add a new twist to the character portrait she was still trying to iron out.

I was already seated by the time Stephanie showed up. She was wearing jeans and a denim button-up along with those dorky red shoes again. Made me want to smile a little. But I didn't.

She seemed unfazed by my appearance. Even though her eyes lingered a little on my weighted jacket pocket. The whole gun thing still bothered her. She'd probably have a stroke if she knew the types of weapons I used to use in Special Forces. I still fantasized about them from time to time.

Steph took a seat across from me and the waitress stopped by to take our order. True to form, Stephanie ordered mass quantities of empty carbs and sugar with an extra side of sugar coated sugar. I went with half a grapefruit and some coffee.

"What's up?" I asked once the waitress had disappeared.

She leaned in a little like she had a secret. "You hear about the shooting at Delio's Exxon on Hamilton?"

Part of me wanted to lean in and whisper "no," but I knew she probably figured I had the latest on all the shady dealings in Trenton. And besides, I had a reputation to maintain. "Somebody buzzed Moogey Bues," I replied casually.

"You know who hit him?"

"Don't have a name."

Our beverages arrived, and Stephanie's eyes dilated a little at the sight of her hot chocolate. Hot damn. This woman sure gets turned on by food.

Stephanie waited for the waitress to disappear again before asking her next question. "What _do_ you have?"

"A real bad feeling." Like someone was about to go all Sherlock on this case.

She took a sip of the hot chocolate. "I got one of those, too. Morelli says he's looking for Kenny Mancuso as a favor to Kenny's mother. I think there's more to it."

Shit. The cop again. Sounds like he's been hangin' close enough to be swappin' stories on Kenny. Probably using Steph too. Didn't like it on a professional level. And I sure as hell didn't like it on a personal level. And here she was probably following him around like an innocent, dopey puppy. Guess that was going to have to be her problem.

"Uh-oh. You been reading those Nancy Drew books again?"

She looked like the last remark didn't even register. The warning was already lost to the excitement of the case. "So what do you think?" she asked. "You hear anything weird about Kenny Mancuso? You think he did Moogey Bues?"

There was a good chance. But that wasn't the point. "I think it don't matter to you. All you've got to do is find Kenny and bring him in."

She sighed. "Unfortunately, I'm all out of bread crumbs to follow."

The waitress brought our food, and I debated my next move. Stephanie was intrigued by Morelli's involvement, so she probably would wind up knee-deep in shit regardless of what direction I pointed her. Following the Moogey trail was probably the best route to take at this point.

I pulled out my silverware and started in on my grapefruit. Stephanie was watching me like I'd suddenly sprouted two heads.

"Boy, _that_ looks yummy," she almost-snickered as she drowned her pancakes in a waterfall of syrup. "Maybe next time I'll get one of those."

I watched as she shoveled in a giant bite of dripping pancake. "Better be careful. Nothing uglier than a fat old white woman." If you can dish it, babe, ya better be able to take it.

She _almost_ looked offended. Until she took another bite of pancake. Then her lips curled into a satisfied grin as she chewed and closed her eyes. Once the food orgasm was over, she gave me a look. "You're not being much help here," she frowned.

"What do you know about Moogey Bues?" I asked.

"I know he's dead." Not much then.

I took another bite of the grapefruit. "You might check Moogey out." Hint hint, Eliza.

"And while I'm checking out Moogey, you could put your ear to the ground." She raised an eyebrow with a hopeful grin. Cute.

I tried turning her down. "Kenny Mancuso and Moogey don't necessarily move in my neighborhood."

She thought for a moment. "Wouldn't hurt, though."

She held my gaze. Her eyes were bright and captivating, just like that first day I'd met her. Sitting across from her, I felt the smallest twitch of something foreign and undefined. Something I frequently refused to acknowledge. Because it was impossible. And just as impossible to ignore.

"True," I added. "Wouldn't hurt."


End file.
